


Sleepwalk

by Corvid_Knight



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bad Dreams, Earth C (Homestuck), Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sleepwalking, my tumblr is knight-of-heart-and-art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 12:12:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13636065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Dave has unfortunate nocturnal habits.Karkat handles them better than anyone might've expected.





	1. Karkat

If Dave had this shit going on when you were still on the meteor, he hid it way too well. You think it's new, though—maybe he spent more nights in his own room than in yours back then, but it was definitely close, and if you'd woken up even once to him sleepwalking, you'd have fucking remembered. 

It's creepy as fuck, too...as far as you know, somnambulism isn't a thing for trolls. Which is probably lucky, since your species is pretty much a collection of killing machines. You'd really hate to wake up and find Dave bleeding from something you did to him in your sleep. Although waking up, finding him gone from next to you, and having to go hunt through the hive for him? Not all that great either. 

When you do find him this time, he's pacing small circles in the kitchen, eyes wide and blank. You actually have to force yourself to take a step towards him because this time, unlike the last couple times he did this, he has his sword. Yes, he's just holding it, not even like it's a weapon, but you can't help but be leery of it. You're not over your fear of edged weapons yet. Might never be. 

Still. This is Dave. 

"Hey. Dave." Okay, maybe you can't quite bring yourself to touch him yet. "Dave, come back to bed, okay?" 

The five or six times he's done this before, you've been able to talk him into coming and lying down with you. He didn't seem to remember anything when you asked him about it the next day, just shrugging and mumbling about bad dreams. This time, though? He doesn't even pause at the sound of your voice. If anything, his shoulders hunch down more, and maybe he even walks a little faster. 

"Dave, babe, sweetheart, fuckass, look at me." He does not. Fuck. "Dave." 

Stepping in front of him is an unreasonably hard thing for you to do, but it does get him to stop. He stands there for a moment, adjusting his grip on his sword nervously and looking at you. Through you. At somebody or something that's most definitely not there. In this almost-nonexistant light, his eyes look almost black instead of red. 

When you take another step toward him he flinches back, half-raising his sword, and you have to bite down hard on your tongue to hold back the startled snarl. "Fuck—Dave, look at me. It's just me. Just Karkat. Come on, please—" 

Except he's already turned around and walked out, just slow enough to make it look like he's not trying to run. God, you feel like you could deal with this better if he'd just say something. Anything. Following him isn't exactly the best plan you've ever come up with, but then again you can't think of anything better right now. 

At least he stops at the foot of the stairs. If he tried to go up you'd have to stop him, sword or no. You're not going to let him try going up in the weird state he's in. 

"Dave. Dave fucking Strider." He still doesn't react to your words, but when you wrap your hand over his, around the hilt of the sword, he makes a soft, terrified sound that's halfway between a whine and a groan. "Shh. You're okay. Look at me." 

He really doesn't want to let go of that goddamn sword, but after a second of struggling to get out of your grip he just goes limp, sagging against you so suddenly that you almost let him end up on the floor. With him this close, you can feel him trembling. 

After maybe ten seconds, the sword clatters to the floor, and Dave gasps and flinches at the sound, hands coming up to clutch at your shirt. 

"Hey, shh. It's just me. Nothing's happening, you're okay." Is that even a little true? Since he's got his face buried in your chest and you can already feel a wet spot there, you really fucking doubt it. "Come on, Dave. It's okay." Is he even awake? Actually, no, that doesn't matter. 

"He's gonna come in," Dave says, after a minute or so. Even as muffled as he is, he sounds dazed, drunk...asleep. "He—he's—you gotta—" 

"He's not coming, I promise. Nobody's here." You're not sure who "he" is this time. Dave's bro? Jack? Another Dave, one that killed him in some timeline you didn't get to interact with? "Can you look at me, please? Talk to me?" 

Dave, predictably, does not do either. That's okay. You're fine with wrapping your arms around him and waiting as long as you need to.


	2. Dave

The first thing you're conscious of is that you fucked up. You had to have fucked up. Someone's holding you, why the fuck—what did you do, how bad did you fuck yourself up that your bro would touch you in any way that wasn't a goddamn attack or just moving you out of his way—

Wait. 

Wait. Just one minute. Wait a minute. 

Bro's dead. 

Oh. 

That's...fuck. But—no, he can't be dead, if you just woke up from dreaming about him dying and kicking your ass and dying again then he didn't really die, right? Right? Oh god that's even worse. Oh god you're a fucking horrible piece of shit for thinking that. 

You're so fucking confused. You're confused, and you kind of wish you weren't awake, and you want...

You want...

"...Karkat." 

Oh, hey. Memories are a thing now, apparently. You weren't crying for a minute there, but relief's obviously just as good at getting tears out of you as...well, whatever flavor of fear you were dealing with a minute ago. You can handle this, though. Karkat's got you, you actually know where—and when—you are, you can handle this without being a disgusting piece of shit.

"Dave? Please tell me you're awake." 

Okay, fuck, he sounds concerned and more than a little scared and there goes your ability to not cry your goddamn eyes out. At least you can be quiet about it, right? Right?

...no. You're making not-very-quiet, absolutely pathetic sobbing sounds against Karkat's chest and hating yourself for it. 

"Hey, Dave—hey, shhh. It's okay. You're okay." He keeps talking even though you've managed to say precisely one word to him, lapsing into Alternian every few seconds. Even though you understand none of that, it's still the most reassuring thing. Proves that it's him, after all. 

Calming down is hard. Then again, you're kind of an expert at figuring out hard shit. Still takes you a stupid amount of time, though. 

"Are you going to be all right?" Karkat whispers when you finally quit crying on him. He doesn't let you go yet, though, and holy shit are you thankful for that. 

"I'm okay. 'M fine." Yeah. Sure. You're not even sure why you're standing wherever you're standing, instead of in bed with him where you both belong. "Uh...what. The fuck. Did I do." Okay, words are really, really hard right now. "Sorry." 

"Shut up." He follows that up with a sound that reminds you of the time you stuck a magnet in the microwave for three seconds on high, buzzing and deep and strangely crunchy, before answering your question. "You've been sleepwalking." 

"I've been what?" That's the automatic answer, but you're already admitting to yourself that yeah, that makes sense. "Did I..." Your sword's by your feet, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, and you have to force yourself to pull back to arm's length and look at Karkat, check for rips in his clothes or bruises or (god forbid) blood, trying to shove fear back down. "Fuck, man...did I hurt you?" 

He just looks confused for a moment, then shakes his head. "No, Dave, of course not, you wouldn't—" 

"You don't know what the fuck I'd do." When he goes to pull you back in, you resist for a second for no reason you can think of. You want to be close to him right now, need it—and thankfully Karkat doesn't quit tugging until you give up and lean against him again. "I don't know what the fuck I'd do when I'm asleep, I dream about doing fucked-up shit all the time..." 

"You're not going to hurt me." Karkat's voice isn't anything so much as a rumble against your forehead, so fucking safe and familiar that you're relaxing even though you're still lowkey panicking over the whole sleepwalking thing in general. "It wouldn't be your fault if you did, anyway. It's okay." 

"Fuck that, it's not okay if I—" You immediately lose the thread of your sentence as he presses his lips against the top of your head and exhales. After a second you can feel him smiling against your hair. "Not fair...let me lose my shit for once, goddamnit." 

"Once?" He snorts, shaking his head a little and laughing softly when you reach up to pull him back to where he was before. "Try always." 

"Mm. Maybe." 

"It's too fucking late to get worked up over this shit, Dave." He kisses you again, and again, working down from the top of your head to your temples, the side of your face, your nose, soft and careful and a hell of a lot more gentle than you think you deserve. "Come on, let's go back to bed—" 

You can't help but tense up when Karkat says that, your whole body reflecting your immediate and automatic sense of fuck-no-can't-do-that. And he notices—it's not like he could not notice, really, you're still wrapped up in him and around him like some kind of stupid ironic leech—and he stops talking immediately, instead making a low, concerned noise deep in his chest and cupping your face in his hands. 

Of course you close your eyes. You can't really help it. As much as you love him, you're never going to get used to making direct eye contact when you're upset. 

At least he doesn't try to convince you that you have to look, though. "Don't tell me you're going to do the not sleeping shit again, Dave." You don't have to open your eyes to see his face—that, you can visualize, all soft curves and rough angles, concern and chiding and caring blended into the beautiful clusterfuck you're so in love with. "That shit's not good for you..." 

"Can't kill me for good." Fuck, that's a stupid thing to say. Why the fuck would you say that? You're not done saying stupid shit, though, and you can hear the pleading tone in your voice get more and more pronounced. "Come on, what's the worst that could happen, either I pass out eventually if I can't handle shit or I manage to push it far enough to actually—" 

"Shh. Shush. Shut up, just for one fucking minute, Dave." He runs his thumb across your cheek, wiping at wetness you hadn't really realized was there, then catches your sob with a kiss. "Shhh..." 

"No." If you're talking then you can't actually be that bad off, you know that. You shouldn't shut up, you just need to keep talking until he believes and you can believe you're okay. You have to be okay with this shit. You're not allowed to not be—

"Dave, shhh," Karkat says again, even though you haven't managed anything beyond that reflexive _no._ "Shush. It's alright." 

"It's." You have to stop and take a breath before you say it. Bro hammered this rule into your head, more than almost anything else: you don't admit you need help. You don't admit you're weak, even when you are. It's been years since he told you this, but you still can't easily admit when you're not okay, even to Karkat. "It's not all right. Like, _I'm_ not all right, I—" 

"I know you're not." He moves slow enough that you have the opportunity to pull away, as he bends down to scoop you up in his arms. You don't take that opportunity, of course; instead you wrap your arms around his neck and lean your head against his chest, closing your eyes and listening for his heartbeat. "I can tell when you're not okay, idiot, you're good at pretending but I know you too fucking well to not see when shit's fucked up..." 

"Mhm." You don't like that it's obvious to him when you're not operating at optimal levels, but hey. He's not stupid. At least he's not mad. "Where—" 

Before you can finish asking where he's taking you, Karkat sits down on the couch, arranging you on his lap and leaning back. You open your eyes for a second; he's grinning at you. 

"Go to sleep, Dave," he tells you. 

"What if I sleepwalk?" 

"If you move and try to get off me, I'll wake up. Then I can wake _you_ up." Karkat kisses your forehead, and laughs softly when you huff and pull him down into a proper kiss. "It'll be okay." 

"...fine." You trust him. You're tired. 

You settle on his chest and wrap your arms loosely around him, and close your eyes. It'll be okay. 

God, you love him so fucking much.


End file.
